


Cookies

by autisticblueteam



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Autistic Character, F/F, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticblueteam/pseuds/autisticblueteam
Summary: South comes back home after a day of errands, and finds Connie got a little bored whilst she was gone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Done for a tumblr prompt! The dialogue prompt was: ''That is one hell of a mess''

South hummed under her breath as she approached the front door, earphones in her ears and music playing at near full volume. Mumbling along to the chorus of her song she fumbled to grab her keys from her pocket, rolling her eyes to herself, before finally tugging them free and unlocking the door.

“I’m back!” She called into the house, popping one earphone out and letting it hang. She heard a faint call of acknowledgement from the living room, and peeked in as she walked past. Connie was mostly hidden where she sat on the floor, only the top of her head poking out above the seats of the couch. South paused with a grin, hand on the doorframe and leaning back. “Whatcha doing down there?”

“Being lazy.”

“Acceptable answer.”

Popping her earbud back in so she could finish her song, she passed by the living room and headed for the kitchen. Still idly humming along, and maybe dancing a little now that she was off the streets, she swung her bag off of her shoulder and onto the small island in the centre of their kitchen. So distracted by her music, it was only when her dancing caused her to turn around that she noticed the state of the kitchen.

She immediately tugged out her headphones.

“Connie, what the _fuck_?”

Flour covered the countertops, spread with such range that it looked like a flour bomb had exploded and sent it flying everywhere within a good three foot radius. Piled in the sink there were numerous bowls and utensils, covered in what looked like batter of some kind and not even soaked in water. There were definitely a few cookie cutters scattered around the room, one surrounded by shapes in the flour and the others spread between the sink and the half-open box of baking supplies. And, now that South was paying attention, she could definitely smell something sweet in the air.

Shoving her music player back in her bag, she turned heel and went back to the living room.

When she appeared in the doorway, Connie was peering up at her from over the couch cushions. Just her eyes were visible at first glance, but when South walked closer and leant over the back of the seat she could see the half empty baking tray on her lap.

With a raised brow, she gestured back at the kitchen, “That’s one hell of a mess, babe.”

Connie smiled awkwardly, “…What time is it?”

“Like… four.”

“…Oh, crap.” She made a noise half between a laugh and a groan, covering her face in her hands. “I sat down here _three hours ago_ , telling myself I was going to get up and clean in like, twenty minutes. Oh no.”

South snorted, shaking her head, “Fucking hell, Connie. How hard is executive dysfunction kicking your ass today?”

“Well, I made cookies? So…” Holding up the half-empty baking tray as evidence, she giggled. “Uh, about seventy five percent kicking my ass?”

“Hm. How about I clean up the kitchen, you pass me a couple cookies, and we call it even?” South said, raising a brow and giving her a mischievous smile. It was Connie’s turn to shake her head now, but she looked amused all the same.

“Deal.”

Pushing herself up onto her knees, Connie grabbed a couple of the best looking cookies and offered them to South. However as she did, she finally revealed to South the front of her clothes−showing that they, too, were covered in flour.

“Connie holy _fuck_ how did you get so much fucking flour everywhere?! Okay, no, first things first take off that shirt.”

Connie’s smile was teasing, as she clambered up to kneel on the couch and wrap her arms around South’s shoulders, “Why do I feel like you have ulterior motives?”

“My motives are stopping fucking flour spreading around the house now take the shirt off,” a pause, a peck, “…and hurry up and hand over those cookies, I’m starving.”

“Love you too, Tasha.”


End file.
